


The Sting of Regret

by QueenPeen



Series: A Court of Thorns and Roses Shorts [4]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: A Court of Thorns and Roses - Freeform, Bringing you your daily dose of feels, Crying, Feels, Heartache, Heartbreak, I don't care if you hate him, I love Tamlin, If you don't like it don't read it., Loneliness, Other, Ouch, Pain, Rhysand - Freeform, Sad, Sarah J. Maas - Freeform, Spring Court, Tamlin - Freeform, Thinking, War, a court of mist and fury, a court of wings and ruin - Freeform, all those lovely tags..., feyre - Freeform, thoughs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPeen/pseuds/QueenPeen
Summary: Carrying on from the first Tamlin short I wrote. This is more in depth. Struggling with being alone after getting used to having friends and love again.





	The Sting of Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Just like the last one... I don't post this just so you can hate on me. Any hate comments will be deleted.

Tamlin could remember the last time his home had felt this empty. It had also been the first day where had truly felt alone, like he had nobody. It had been in the hours following his father death. It just suddenly hit him that he was painfully alone. His mother? Dead. Brothers? Dead. And now his father had gone off to join them and Tamlin was left alone with the power and title he had never wanted.

The house had seemed so busy when he'd been younger, always filled with people. Laughter coming from one room or another. Servants rushing about too and fro, the house had felt alive.

But not once they'd all gone.

It had taken him centuries to build something of it back, but the home never once returned back to how it used to be. But he had hoped... Tamlin had Lucien, he had Feyre. And so in those short months he dreamed that maybe one day he could fill the rooms with the sounds of joy once more. Family, friends.

But now his home felt as empty as it had that first time, when he'd closed the door and heard the hollow clank echoing through the empty halls. The silence settling deep into his bones. Except this time he was almost sure he deserved this loneliness.

All those promises he had failed to keep to Feyre, and the promise to keep her safe... the promise he had taken too far? Could he really be blamed for wanting her out of harms way? For wanting to keep her safe? He had sold out everything he had ever cared for just to have her back safe... What happened to her under the mountain haunted him still. Even though she had found comfort from someone else. Rhysand was more suited to her, Tamlin saw that now, now he knew that all he had believed about Night was untrue. That the true monster of the tale was not the High Lord of Night but actually the High Lord of Spring. He had been the monster in Feyre's story for so long he wasn't sure he would ever be anything else. Not even to himself.

Tamlin wasn't even sure he could pinpoint when things had gone wrong. He wanted to blame Rhys, for stealing his bride. But now Tamlin had the time to think, he had precious little else to do but spend his time alone... thinking. She hadn't been right since they'd come home, he hadn't been right since then either. He had always managed to keep the best in him chained, the temper that came with the power was hard to keep under control. But he had managed... until Amarantha's torment had unravelled it. And who had he turned his temper on? The one who he had wanted to spare from it. The one he had promised to love, thorns and all.

Another nightmare woke Tamlin, he sat bolt upright in his bed, a sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. And for the millionth time he desperately tried to reach out to someone beside him... but of course Feyre would never be there again. Funny that he hadn't wanted to confide in her when she'd been there... but now he just wanted someone... the first sob tore itself free of his chest as his hands met nothing but cold sheets.

He couldn't stop himself from wondering what she would be doing now, she certainly wouldn't be dying like she had been in his nightmare. Her happy ending was only just beginning, in some far off city of starlight. Tamlin didn't have one of those, the monsters in tales never did. He had hurt her, in every conceivable way. And now he was left with his regret. You always had perfect vision when looking into the past. But Tamlin couldn't see a way it could have ended differently. She had been Rhys' before she'd ever set foot on this side of the wall.

He wasn't sure if he still loved her, he wasn't sure if he still missed her or just missed having somebody. He had grown so used to that kind of love, that kind of companionship. It had driven him half mad when she'd first gone, when that letter had arrived saying she was never coming back. The beast had burst to the fore then, he'd had no control at all. Such an animal was likely better alone. If a dog had been as rabid as he, then it would have been killed.

It was in the middle of the night, after one of his usual nightmares that Tamlin wondered when she stopped loving him. Had it been easy? Had she weighed up all his many faults and forgot him easily. Or had she struggled for weeks on end, missing him as he had missed her? Feyre had always seemed so happy when she'd returned back from her weeks with Rhys. Tam had always thought she was simply happy to be home to him. But the reality was that Rhys had been making her happy. And that had been what he had wished upon her when they'd last spoke. "Be happy, Feyre..." But what he hadn't said was I hope he makes you happier than I did. I hope he is worthy of you, because I wasn't.

Would he have to wait another five hundred years for another fleeting happiness to blow his way? Would the cauldron even grant him that much?


End file.
